Too Much to Handle
by Heronique
Summary: Clarke and Wells are sent to Earth, with 98 other juveniles. The first few days, the two encounter horrible mysteries that leave them shivering. And just when it starts to get better... Side note-Sorry if the story is switching in between past-present. I have an odd and annoying habit of that. Thanks!
1. Prologue

Clarke and Wells had known each other since the day they were born. The two always stayed by each others side, even when one of them was going through the worst experience one could possibly go through. While Wells' mother was ill, Clarke was always there for him, as well as his mother. She was like a daughter to his parents and they loved her as much as they loved Wells. Throughout the past year, many things had happened in both of their lives. Wells' mother became ill, which led to her emotional death. Clarke's father had been arrested and executed. Since that him and Clarke had been drifting apart. Clarke had been wanting more time to herself, alone. While Wells wanted more than anything to sit with Clarke and talk to her.

Wells' thought that talking to Clarke would help him get over his mother. It turned out that the more he thought about Clarke, the more he thought about his mother. He knew it was because Clarke was a lot like his mother, although she wasn't her daughter and didn't look anything like her. He remembered how his mother used to talk about how he and Clarke would start a family together. Clarke would blush, while Wells' would try to hide a big grin across his face and give his mother a death glare. Wells' and Clarke had both considered getting married one day, but never talked about it with each other.


	2. Messages

**Clarke**

So many things were happening all at once, in Clarke's life. First Wells' mother, then her father. She was curious as to what was going to happen next. While all her friends, who she never hung out with, anymore, were out having fun on the Ark, Clarke would sit on the edge of her bed, drawing on her blankets. Her mother would get so very mad at Clarke when she did that. Clarke didn't care, at all. It was what kept her busy. What distracted her from her father and Wells' mother. Distracted her from life and all the horrible things that happened in her life. Clarke didn't understand why they had to happen. She really didn't. Sometimes she would find herself asking herself if it was her fault. If she was the reason all this was happening. Although, it was extremely illogical. Everything that had happened wasn't because of her. It was just what the universe wanted to happen. And Clarke hated the universe for that.

 **Wells**

Last night Wells fell asleep thinking about Clarke. He thought of how she was doing. He wondered if she was okay. When he realized that Clarke had been avoiding him, he let it happen. Wells knew that after her father being executed she would want some time alone. He didn't wish that she would want some time. All he wanted was to be around Clarke. All day. Every day.

When Wells woke up he found himself thinking about Clarke. Her blonde kinky hair. Her amazing green eyes, that shimmered in the light. Her expression that was always on her face, which showed how serious she was. Even when Clarke was laughing, having fun and loosening up, her face, eyes, were serious. Like she always had something to worry about, or take care of. As if everyones life was in her hands. Wells knew that Clarke always felt like people were depending on her. Like they would all be disappointed in her if she messed up.

Wells decided that he wanted to talk to her again. If she refused, he would just keep asking her. He would follow her around like a lost puppy. Constantly sending her messages on her cornea slip. Today was the day he would start that.

Wells thought about what he was going to say to her. He thought for a few minutes, until he came up with something. He wanted what he was going to say to Clarke to be basic. Simple. Something anyone would understand.

 _Clarke,_

 _I haven't heard from you in months, now. I want to know if you are okay. I miss you. Do you think we can meet up sometime? I would enjoy it very much…_

 **Clarke**

 _… and it's okay if you say no. I understand. You may still need time to recover from what happened. I know I still am. I think that, maybe, it might help if we hung out. We don't necessarily have to talk about what happened. I just feel like I need to talk to you. Like it would make me feel much better. I know you have been avoiding me and it is okay. I understand why. I need someone to talk to and it seems like you do too. Please, at least, respond._

 _Love,_

 _Wells._

Clarke stared at the message Wells had sent her. _I thought he didn't realize I was avoiding him,_ she thought. _I feel like an idiot._

Clarke didn't know why, but she wanted to wait to send Wells a reply. But when she did send him reply, Wells didn't believe what she said.


	3. At Least She Responded

**Wells**

4 hours later was when Wells got a reply back from Clarke.

 _Wells, I don't think you understand. My father was executed, which I would guess suffocating is pretty painful. I know, your mother probably did go through a lot of pain, emotional and physical. So did my father. But my dad was practically murdered, while your mother died for no reason. Please, know that I need much more time to recover from his execution. Talking to someone is not going to help me. Not even talking to you is. I'm sorry, Wells. Please, understand. You are still my friend and yes I have been avoiding you. But don't take it personally, I've been avoiding my own mother._

 _Clarke._

Wells stared at the message, wide eyed. He imagined her reply being something along the lines of, "Yes, I desperately need someone to talk to and I want you to be that someone," or, "Meet me for dinner and we can talk about it," but Clarke didn't seem interested in any of that.

Wells collapsed on the sofa in his small living room. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Why couldn't Clarke just make his life easier, and meet up with him? Wells understood that Clarke needed time to recover, but he didn't understand why talking to someone, socializing, wouldn't help her. He hoped that it wouldn't be like that for the rest of their lives. He hoped Clarke would, one day, come up to him, or send him a message, to tell him that she wanted things to be like they were. Before everything happened. He knew nothing would be like it was before. Wells knew that she would be different. That he would be different. Both of them had newly deceased relatives. They wouldn't be as lively. Not as active, as they were before. It was very obvious that they wouldn't.

 _At least she responded,_ thought Wells.

 **Clarke**

Clarke had been feeling horrible ever since she replied to Wells' message. She told herself that she should've told him she wanted to talk. Or, at least, met up with him and told him in person. The truth was, Clarke didn't know if she wanted to see, or talk to, Wells at all. If she thought of him, she thought of his mother, which made her think of her father. When Clarke saw Wells' message she felt like crying. As well as when she sent her reply. Clarke had to distract herself.

Clarke stepped out of her flat and into the Ark's bright hallways. She went to the dim stores where small groups of people muttered back and forth, to each other. Clarke saw a couple of her friends in a corner and the instant they saw her they quickly walked towards her.

"Clarke! Oh my gosh! We haven't seen you in FOREVER!" one of them said. Clarke didn't really remember their names, or them at all. It was like being depressed for a while made her memory of everything social fuzzy. Clarke had been out of her flat, but not very much. She, now, spent most of her days curled up on her bed. Thinking about her dad. Thinking about Wells' mom. About her own mother. Clarke only ever left to get food. She completely stopped helping her mom with the sick people on the Ark. Her mother worked more now, and Clarke rarely saw her.

"Yeah, um, I've been busy," she lied. Clarke felt bad for lying to her friends, although she barely remembered talking to them before at all. _You're Cathy. Right?_ she thought. She actually did forget her friends names. "I, uh, gotta go," she said, "bye," the girls waved at Clarke and she awkwardly waved back.

Clarke walked around the small store sections for a while. She didn't know what else to do. It didn't distract her from Wells at all. She kind of wished that she could forget about everything. Her ' parents. Wells.


End file.
